


Wedding Shoes

by orphan_account



Series: Shoes!Verse [9]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:19:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's mom drags him shopping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding Shoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jokerindisguise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokerindisguise/gifts).



Frank groans and drops his head into his hands. His mother has been talking for at least an hour, and Frank’s not sure she’s even stopped for breath.

“Oh, what about these ones?” His mother asks, and Frank looks up wearily.

She’s holding out pair of shiny black loafers and Frank just stares at them in horror. There’s tassles and everything.

“I am _not_ getting married in those!” He declares, and his mother frowns.

“But they’ll look so smart, sweetie,” she says, and Frank just groans.

“Mom, I am not wearing those… _things_ to my wedding.” 

Linda just sighs and wanders off to find a sales assistant, and Frank lets out a loud groan. He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, really he doesn’t. Clothes shopping with his mother is the worst thing _ever_ , because she constantly tries to make him dress _smart_ , and anyone that knows Frank knows…well, Frank isn’t a _smart_ dressed guy. 

Yes, he’s aware there’s a wedding coming up, and sure, he knows he has to make more of an effort, but really, these shoes his mother keeps producing are just god awful. They look like the kind of thing even his grandfather would laugh at.

“Mom,” Frank says as Linda shows up with some strange brown shiny shoe. “I work in a shoe store, I think I’m perfectly capable of picking out my own shoes. Plus, I thought we were looking for shirts, not shoes.”

Linda rolls her eyes. “If I let you pick out your own shoes, you and Gerard will show up to the altar in dirty baseball boots. I won’t let my son be married looking like a tramp, Frank.”

Frank rolls his eyes this time. “Maybe I _like_ looking like a tramp,” and wow, suddenly he’s fourteen again.

Five more shoes later and Frank’s about to scream. 

“Mom, seriously, I’m not wearing any of these!”

Linda huffs. “I bet Gerard isn’t as difficult as this.”

“No,” Frank agrees. “Because he’ll just agree then have me change them later.”

Linda scowls and folds her arms. “Fine,” she says. “Let’s look at shirts.”

Frank groans. He knows he’s going to be in this god damn wedding store for at least another three hours.

And he’s not far wrong, because two hours later he’s sitting on a little cushioned bench, watching as his mother tries on wedding hats. In the spirit of things, Frank’s wearing a rather ridiculous looking top hat.

“You look so excited,” a voice says, and Frank looks up.

There’s a dark haired sales girl smiling at him, holding two hat boxes that his mother no doubt requested.

“Is it that obvious?” Frank sighs, and the girl giggles.

“It’s exciting to be the mother of the bride or groom,” she says softly, and Frank shrugs.

“I guess. It’s her only chance, I suppose.” Frank says softly. He touches the brim of the hat on his head. “I’m her only kid.”

The girl looks a little surprised. “You’re getting married?”

Frank smiles and nods.

“Oh,” the girl says. “Sorry, you look a bit young to be getting married!” She gives an embarrassed giggle.

Frank just grins and rubs his cheek. “I bathe in the blood of virgins, it keeps me looking young. I’m really forty three.”

The girls laughs and sets the hat boxes on the bench next to Frank. “Your wife-to-be is a very lucky woman,” she smiles.

“Husband-to-be,” Frank corrects, and the girl looks up with wide eyes. Frank just smiles.

“Oh!” The girls says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

Frank waves a hand. “It’s fine,” he smiles.

“Well,” the girl says, “your future husband is very lucky…” she trails off and Frank tilts his head, because she knows she wants to say something else.

“Yeah?” He laughs.

The girl looks a little red in the face, but she looks at him and says, “And…well done. In this day…it’s good you’re not letting politics rule you.”

Frank furrows his brow but smiles. “Thanks.”

The girl smiles, then Frank’s mother comes bustling over to look at the other hats.

\---

“Ugh!” Frank yells as he closes the front door. He drops his shopping bags in the hallway and drags himself into the living room, where he just lets himself fall onto the sofa.

“I take it shopping with Linda was a fun time?” A voice calls out from the kitchen.

Frank holds up a hand to flip Gerard off, despite the fact neither of them can actually see it.

There’s footsteps then a hand stroking Frank’s hair. “Was it that bad?”

“She tried to make me get loafers,” Frank mumbles into a cushion, before he twists on to his back. “They were horrible.”

Gerard’s sitting on the coffee table and he gives Frank a sympathetic smile. “Aw, baby.”

Frank pouts and nods. “The woman is deranged.”

Gerard prods Frank’s arm. “Hey, that’s my future mother-in-law you’re talking about.”

Frank laughs and grabs Gerard’s hand and presses a kiss to his fingertips.

“How was your day?” Frank asks, and Gerard grins.

“Oh,” he says as he gets to his feet. “I did a little wedding shopping of my own.”

Frank raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”

“Yup,” Gerard says, and he makes his way out of the room. Frank can hear some bags rustling, then Gerard reappears with two black shoe boxes.

“You got shoes?” Frank asks, confused. He pushes himself into a sitting position. “But I was--”

“I knew you’d never agree on shoes with your mom,” Gerard smirks, and Frank feels a bubble in his chest. Gerard knows him too well.

“Here,” Gerard says, and he pushes one of the boxes into Frank’s hands.

Frank smiles and opens the box carefully. 

Inside, wrapped in thin tissue, is a simple pair of black Converse. Just your usual, every day run of the mill Converse boots, black canvas material with white rubber. The white laces aren’t looped yet, just packed neatly at the side of the boots.

Frank looks up with a smile, and Gerard is just watching him.

“They’re perfect,” Frank says, and Gerard nods.

“They’re you.”

Frank looks back down at the shoes. He’s had god only knows how many pairs of these shoes, the exact same, but somehow, these are so much more important.

“What about you?”

Gerard grins and holds out his own box to Frank, who takes it with a grin.

Frank pulls open the box and he actually lets out a small giggle. There, nestled in the tissue is a worn looking pair of biker boots. They’re black, with buckles and scrapes, and Frank can’t help but smile. They’re so _Gerard_.

“I love that you bought boots that are made to look battered,” Frank laughs as he looks up at Gerard. 

Gerard smiles. “Think your mom will like them?” He asks, and Frank just grins.

“Oh, she’ll love them,” he laughs.


End file.
